To Be A Family
by Syenya
Summary: As Finduilas plans a holiday to Dol Amroth, her husband, Denethor, copes with a mounting workload. Adventure beyond any child's dream awaits their two young sons when Boromir and Faramir get lost in the unfamiliar wood near their mother's home.
1. Chapter 1

To Be a Family   
By Reania Spiren   
All main characters borrowed from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy and Appendices. I fully intend to return them whole and recognizable.   
A note: I am looking for a Beta Reader. Anyone who is willing, please tell me along with a review. Good editing skills are appreciated, as is being painfully honest.  
  
It was an ordinary day in Minas Tirith, at least for most of its residents. Perhaps not, though, for the young children of the Steward, who were busy exploring their home.  
"But Naneth!" a child's voice protested from inside the Citadel. "I must still slay the Dragon!"  
Finduilas smiled at her young son. "Very well, my son, why not lure the Dragon back inside your playroom?" She tried not to laugh as a look of shock passed over her son's face.  
"But Faramir's in there! If I bring the Dragon in there, he'll get eaten!" Boromir replied, trying to feign calmness like he heard the warriors tell. As if on cue, a three-year old boy shuffled out from a door down the hall.  
"Bor'mir?" The little one called, looking away from his mother and brother. Finduilas laughed softly, and knelt on the stone floor.  
"Boromir is right here," She said. The younger boy turned, and ran toward her.  
"Nana!" the child yelled, giving her a hug. After returning the hug, Finduilas stood up, and dusted off her skirts.  
"Back in your playroom now, boys. I have some work to do." With a grin, she ruffled her eldest son's hair, earning a cry of "Naneth!" and walked away down the hall. Reflecting on her sons, she smiled. Boromir was picking up Sindarin quickly, and had begun to use it wherever possible. Of course, Faramir was imitating his brother, and she was thus known as Naneth to her children. Lost in thought, she did not realize where she was going until she stood outside the oaken doors that led into her husband's study. Knocking sharply, she entered, and was greeted by Denethor. The man stood as she entered, and walked around the table that was scattered with papers to her. They embraced quickly, before the Steward took his seat again, and motioned for his wife to sit. She did, and so began to speak.  
"How is work going, Denethor? I am hoping to finish planning our vacation today, before our sons find out about it. I am hoping for it to be a surprise."  
Denethor sighed, and glanced at a messy stack of papers on the right hand side of his desk. "I am afraid that I may not be able to be with you, for my work continues its flow, and I cannot trust the ruling of Gondor to any other."  
Finduilas too glanced at the pile, measuring it up. "Surely you could take care of the most urgent ones, and allow the more trivial ones to sit awhile!"  
With a wry smile, Denethor waved his hand at a larger stack of papers that was threatening to take over. "Those are the more trivial ones."  
Finduilas could not help but stare at the stack of work that her husband had to do. "Ah...Perhaps you could do all you can, and take some with you to take care of on our trip."  
Denethor shook his head. "I worry that that will not be practical. Everyone wants their problems solved, and they want it done now." He grudgingly stacked a few sheaves of papers on the 'trivial' pile. "Here... Trade agreements with Rohan. They wish us to lower the price on our goods in return for a lower price on their horses. I must admit, their horses are superior, and we do need them, but if I lowered prices, the craftsmen may protest." He sighed. "Why must it all be so complicated?"  
His wife stood, and moved behind him to look over his shoulder. "That, I think, can be left alone for a fortnight." She picked up a paper from beneath the trade request. "The Captain of the Guard is requesting permission to have those young men who are training to be a part of the Guard to Osgiliath for better siege training. That does not require an immediate response, it can wait."  
Denethor smiled. His work was taking its toll, frown lines had begun to appear on his face. "Perhaps if I only think about what needs being done in the next two days, I shall be able to reduce my workload enough to join you."  
Finduilas laughed. "Just remember, love, our sons are getting older every day. You should not miss their growing up."  
Her husband's smile turned sorrowful. "Would that I had a choice, but my work threatens to control my life."  
Finduilas shook her head sadly. "One fortnight, Denethor, that is all I ask. Spend time with your family again. Think of Faramir, you have spent very little time with him since you became the Steward. He's already three summers, and you have hardly seen him!"  
Denethor sighed, and looked up at his wife. "I shall try my very hardest to be with you on this holiday. You know I would, if it was at all possible. When do you plan for us to leave for Dol Amroth?"  
Finduilas smiled. "Within a week, if all goes well. Now, I must finish the plans, and you must continue working. I shall dine with you tonight, if you wish."  
Denethor stood and kissed her. "I'd like that."  
  
Finduilas sighed and paced her study, running over lists in her head. "I have it all finished," she muttered to herself. "All that remains is to tell Aelwen what to help Boromir and Faramir pack." She stopped her pacing, and stepped into the hallway, walking in the evening silence to the nursery where her sons slept, watched over by Aelwen, their caretaker when Finduilas was busy. She knocked softly on the door to the nursery, and it was cracked open a few moments later by Aelwen.  
"Ah, Milady!" The nursemaid whispered, opening the door the rest of the way. "Come in. What do you need?"  
"Good evening, Aelwen," Finduilas said, looking at her sleeping sons. "I have finished planning the holiday to Dol Amroth. Here are lists of what to help Boromir pack, and what Faramir needs packed. I plan to leave within a week."  
The nursemaid nodded. "Aye, Milady. Are you looking forward to visiting the sea?"  
Finduilas laughed softly. "Aye. I must get back to my preparations now. Goodnight!"  
Aelwen smiled. "Goodnight, Milady."  
  
Denethor sat easily in a sunlit room. His wife of seven years sat next to him, their year-old son in her arms. They heard the quick step of feet outside the door, and a sharp knock. Denethor stood, and opened the door.  
"May I help you?" he asked the courier that stood in front of him.  
"My Lord," the courier said, bowing. "There is urgent news from the front. Your father has been killed by the enemy. You are now the Steward of Gondor!"  
There was a sharp intake of breath from behind them. Finduilas stood, moving to her husband's side. "But that means...!"  
Denethor nodded. "Thank you for the news. Go tell the people."  
The courier bowed, turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door behind him.  
The Steward turned to his wife. "Finduilas, I now have to take up where my father left off. This will steal my time from you and our sons, but I promise, I will never allow my work to come in the way of my family. However, I must go reassure my people."  
Finduilas nodded sadly, and kissed him. "Good luck."  
  
The Steward rubbed his eyes, wondering what had just happened. "I must have fallen asleep." He glanced at the papers in his hand. "I give up," he muttered, shoving the stack of papers into the depths of the large pile that had begun overflowing onto the floor. "I need my rest. I shan't be able to get anything done in this state." He stood, massaging his back which had cramped from hours in his wooden chair. He left his desk reluctantly, but determinedly. "If I do not leave my work now, I never shall. I will get immersed in one thing or another, and dawn will come without be getting another wink of sleep." He left the room, feeling as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. His mind was made up, he would join his family on holiday, whatever it took.


	2. Chapter 2

To Be a Family, Chapter Two

By Reania Spiren

All main characters borrowed from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings trilogy and Appendices. I fully intend to return them whole and recognizable.

A/N: -Rea grabs hold of the lip of the closing abyss of anonymity- NO! I will not abandon you, my fic! -she theatrically calls on her rather…pathetic… reserves of upper-arm strength, pulling herself out of the abyss- There! Now that that's over…. -she dusts herself off- How'd I manage to lose this? Ah, well. read and enjoy!

The next day dawned bright and clear, and with it rose Denethor. He glanced at his wife who slept peacefully beside the hollow where he had been minutes before, and smiled. "For you, My love," he whispered. He walked the silent halls of the Citadel towards his study, his footsteps echoing through the halls. He arrived quickly at his destination, and entered, crossing the room to sit again behind his desk. An attendant walked in, and gave a brisk bow.

"My Lord, is there anything you require?" The young man asked.

Denethor looked up from the sheaf of parchment at the top of his pile. "Yes, I have not breakfasted yet."

"Yes, My Lord." The attendant said, bowing again.

Denethor dismissed the young man with a wave of his hand, and went back to his task. Yawning slightly, he gathered the pile yet to be divided. Sorting things almost automatically, he let his mind wander, lost in thought about his youngest son. He barely knew the child, and he wasn't sure his son knew who he was, besides the fact that he was Ada. He knew he had to get to know Faramir better, but he wasn't sure how…

The opening of the door brought a startled jump from the Steward. Denethor looked up to see an apologetic looking attendant bearing a steaming tray. He smiled and beckoned the young man forward, and the attendant placed the tray on a small table in the room. He bowed, and left the Steward of the Citadel to his food and his thoughts.

Denethor sat down, his stomach reminding him of just how hungry he really was. He ate quickly, not noticing what he put in his mouth, eager to get back to his looming problem. Within minutes he was again seated on his desk, reducing the stack of parchment.

Another opening of the door commanded his attention, and he looked up, annoyed at further interruption. At first, Denethor saw no one, but then he noticed a small auburn head appearing around the said door. Boromir shuffled in shyly, and looked up.

"Adar," the lad said, "Faramir wants to see you. May I bring him in?"

Denethor smiled at his eldest son. "Of course, Boromir, but do not let it be very long."

The eight-year-old lad nodded. "Yes, Adar." He ran out, and Denethor heard some quiet words spoken behind the door. A few moments later, Boromir gently led his brother in by the hand.

"Ada?" Faramir said meekly. "When're you gonna eat with me? You said you would…"

Denethor's heart tore at the sorrowful look on his youngest son's face. He stood, and walked to his children, kneeling on the ground so he was at Faramir's height. "Right now, my son. Boromir, why don't you stay, and eat with me as well?" He could not help but smile at the way Faramir's face lit up.

Boromir looked at the ground. "I already breakfasted with Aelwen. She wanted me to come right back…" he trailed off.

His father nodded. "Very well, then," he said. "Go back to Aelwen; I'm sure she has a good reason for telling you to return right away." Boromir nodded, turned, and left the room.

Once his older brother was gone, Faramir retreated slightly into himself, obviously unsure of being around his own father.

Denethor sighed inwardly, and took the child's hand. He realized with a sudden jolt that he was as nervous as Faramir, caught unawares by the situation. Masking his feelings, he looked down at the youth and smiled. "Come, Faramir. I was just sitting down to breakfast." He picked his son up and sat him in a chair next to his own, and walked over to is desk. He had barely rung the bell for the attendant when the young man entered and swept a bow.

"Yes, Milord?" The lad asked.

Denethor smiled slightly. "I request a place set out for my son."

The attendant smiled, bowed and left, returning a few moments later with dishes for Faramir. He set them down, bowed again, and left, shutting the door behind him.

Faramir looked down at his plate as Denethor rose and began placing food on it. The child smiled at the fruits, and picked an apple off his plate. "Ada," He said, "Why don' you ever talk t' me an' Bor'mir?" He took a bite of apple and chewed solemnly as Denethor groped for an answer.

"I'm very busy, Faramir. I have many things to do, I often do not have time to visit with you and Boromir, much as I would like to."

"Why?" There was the infallible question of a child.

"Because, Faramir, my work doesn't let me."

The child's face fell. "Oh." He said simply, sadly.

"Faramir," Denethor said, "I promise I will have time for you and Boromir soon. Perhaps not today, but I will visit you."

The child grinned from ear to ear, and slid down from his seat. "Yea!" he shouted, joy radiant in his face.

Denethor was uplifted as well, for the child's moods were infectious. He kneeled in front of Faramir. "However, I must finish what I have still to do before I can take the time to be with you. Do you understand?"

The young boy nodded. "Yes, Ada."

Denethor embraced his son. "Good. Now, I shall call Aelwen to retrieve you." He went to his desk and rang a different bell, and walked back to his son, who gave his legs a hug.

"I love you, Ada." The child whispered.

A tear sprang to Denethor's eye. "I love you too, my son."


End file.
